Have a vision. Be demanding.

Colin Powell

The poor man and the oppressor have this in common:

The LORD gives light to the eyes of both!

Proverbs 29:13

In
the still night’s slumber, breathless bodies emerge from a chamber of
enchantment. Returning to yesterday gives a reprieve from tomorrow’s
loneliness. Laughter between lovers echo unimagined delight in places
sacred to the heart. Is there space for emptiness between lovers or does time
elude spirits enthralled by desire? Only whispered lips give thoughts
their life. And lovers are left to remember and rejoice in stories shaped by
seasons passed.

A
modest beginning often brings about a humbleness that replaces unmet desires
with enduring prophesies of hope. Conversations filled with
contagious laughter preserve memories for future contemplation. Passion
immersed in words, thoughts and ideas surrender to visionary wonder.
Inhibitions seize to exist when lovers embrace, children sing songs filled with
possibilities, and rivers flow endlessly into oceans of vastness. The sound of
elder voices gently archive traditions to empyrean. Forbidden is fear in
the presence of absolute joy, for faintheartedness shall, and always does
taint the human longing for a place and voice. But it is this uninterrupted
coming and going, in and out, old and new that fulfills the destiny of life.

Warm is the smile and eyes that touch us in hidden places. As we travel here and there, our bowed heads are lifted and souls meet, that is until our belonging to another is interrupted by jarring sounds and screeching noises. Then, like a masked assailant without notice the human connection is stolen away. And the wailing voices of our ancestors shake the heavens with pleas for a belonging they once knew. Their cries go unheard, for they no longer have a place in the rustling of life we have come to know. The life that is life-less. Less than me or you or we, the life that is void...for vanishing is the touch.

As I sit quietly to hear my thoughts, he reappears without summons. His thunderous voice echoes in distant plains. Ever so strong and
uncompromising, he sings songs of gladness. His childlike eyes lift the heaviest clouds
and their darkness become sunbeams dancing across the sky in wondrous delight. I
often find space to revisit the moments we shared. In those moments, I pull the
memories close. Like a tattered shawl they keep me as warm as his loving embrace.
If only time had been generous to us, perhaps, our coming together would have
blossomed into seasons that lingered for years to come.